Losing Everything
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: SPOILERS FOR 308. Morgan gets the call that stops his heart.
1. Losing Everything

_**SPOILERS FOR 308 – LUCKY!**_

_**I've**__** made a guess as to where Garcia got shot. I don't know, I'm not sure anyone really knows. But that's my warning. It may not be right.**_

* * *

He'd just dozed off when the phone rang, vibrating at his hip in addition to the shrill sound. "Hello?" 

"Is this Derek Morgan?"

"Yes."

"Sir, we've got Penelope Garcia here and…"

Morgan pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the caller display. 'Potomac Hospital'. His heart began to race, beating triple time.

"Sir?"

The phone went back to his ear immediately. "What's wrong, is she okay, is everything okay?"

"Ms Garcia sustained a gunshot wound, sir. We've got her stabilized and we're going to move her into surgery to remove the bullet momentarily. You're listed on her emergency contact form, but is there a parent we can call?"

"No, she's not close to her parents." He checked his watch quickly. They'd be touching down in half an hour. He could already feel the plane start to tilt. "I can be there in 40 minutes."

"She'll be in surgery, sir."

"I don't care. I'll be there in 40 minutes." He slapped the phone shut and ran a hand over his head. When he looked up he noticed the eyes of the team on him. "Garcia's been shot."

There was a few seconds of silence before the questions were fired at him. He put up a hand to stop the overwhelming words. "She's going into surgery to remove the bullet and they've got her stabilized. Other than that, I've got nothing."

It never ceased to amaze him how fast the team could swing into business mode, but they did it again to investigate as much as possible. Hotch was on the phone to the FBI, JJ to local news agencies and police stations and Emily back on the phone to the hospital. Reid sat quietly and Morgan could tell the young doctor, like himself, was trying to puzzle out exactly what had happened.

Hotch was the one to eventually put a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "She'll be fine, she's a fighter."

* * *

**3****Days Later…**

Hotch had been understanding when Morgan had asked for leave and Morgan hadn't left the hospital since they'd touched down in Quantico. Garcia was his primary concern, his only concern, until she woke up and bestowed upon him one of her brilliant smiles and snarky comments.

He felt guilty, horribly, terribly and gut wrenchingly responsible for what had happened to her. Their fight had been eating at him through the large majority of the case. He'd been stupid, blind, that much he knew. He was a profiler, trained to read body language, to understand the nuances of what people said or did and put together an understanding of them. And yet, he'd been blind to how open she was with him.

And now she was lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound. She'd lost a lot of blood when the EMTs had reached the scene and had already dropped off into a coma. And here she was still, not a single flutter of her eyes or a shift of her muscles. The only comfort Morgan took from the entire scenario was the beeping of the heart monitor by his head.

He knew the statistics. Garcia was less and less likely to wake up the longer she stayed out. He also knew there was no way the team would be the same without her smiling happy face, without her snarky comebacks and flirty barbs. _He_ wouldn't be the same without her.

Morgan had been too afraid to touch her throughout his three-day stay. She looked way too fragile, like she really would fade into nothing if he so much as brushed her hand. But he wanted to, oh how he'd wanted to over the last 72 hours.

_Come on, Pen. You have to wake up. You just have to. I can't lose you._

His mantra had been exactly the same. Three straight days of repeating the same thing to himself over and over again to try and convince himself that she was going to be okay, that he'd see her gorgeous and expressive brown eyes again soon.

Then the compulsion took hold and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and cradling her hand between both of his. His exhausted mind focused solely on the distinct differences between her incredibly pale skin and his own chocolate colour before he could even start to comprehend that he was talking.

"Pen, Baby Girl, you have to wake up for me. I can't lose you, not like this, not without solving things between us, Princess."

By the time he realized he was talking, the words were spilling out much faster than his brain-to-mouth synapse could catch.

"I'm sorry, Baby Girl, so, so sorry I didn't see anything, that I didn't check, that I couldn't protect you. I should have known, I should have seen that I was stupid. I was sick of our dance too, Goddess, so sick of it. You are always the one that's there for me after the tough cases, always the one that listens and lets me puzzle."

Tears were pouring down his face, but nothing was making enough sense to him for him to really realize they were there. His body was exhausted, his mind was exhausted, and all he wanted was for Penelope Garcia to open her eyes.

"You are my rock, sweetheart, and I can't, _cannot_, lose you now. Now when I've realized how stupid I've been to not just sweep you into my arms and carry you off into the sunset.

"I need you to open your eyes, Pen. Just open them, say something, let me know you're going to be okay eventually. Please, Baby Girl._Please._"

Nothing came except the tears and Derek allowed his head to pitch forward for the first time and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Penelope was groggy when she woke to the fluorescent lights of the hospital. It took her mind a good five minutes to process everything that had happened, to remember meeting the smoking hot man in the coffee shop, to remember her fight with Derek, to remember the awesome time she had on the date, and to remember the searing pain as the bullet tore through her flesh. 

She flexed her fingers, surprised to find that while one hand worked perfectly fine, the other seemed incredibly stiff and weighed down. When she looked over, she found a sight to behold.

The Derek Morgan she knew was an energizer bunny, always moving, always active, always the first person to throw himself into whatever case they were doing and into the most dangerous situations he possibly could. Now, here, he was asleep on her hand, his wrapped tightly around hers.

Guilt racked her, as did a sort of twisted happiness. He looked like hell, like he'd been here the same amount of time she had. But she felt terrible. She hadn't even thought of running a background check on the guy and Derek had told her to go with her gut.

She'd ignored her gut to spite him.

And it had put her in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound.

But he was here with her. Asleep to be sure, and she was in pain, yes, but he was here, and he'd stayed. Her hand lifted his, placing it on her stomach so the warmth relaxed some of the pain in her abdomen as her other hand carefully traced his long fingers.

Eventually, his breathing changed and his head came up slowly. He could feel the spider soft touch on his fingers and hope flared in his chest as he looked up at how focused and awake Penelope Garcia was on his hands.

He swallowed thickly apology written all over his face. "Good Morning, Princess."

She met his eyes, her own shining with guilt, apologies and forgiveness. "Hey there Hot Stuff," she answered softly, her voice raspy.

He reached for the cup, pitcher and straw, holding the cup out for her to take a drink. "You have no reason to be sorry," he whispered, his free hand coming up to brush at her curls as he replaced the cup on the nearby table. "I had no right to pry into your life like that. And I'm sorry I was so stupid and blind."

She shook her head slowly, aware that the drugs she was on were part of the reason her head was fuzzy. "I should have stuck to my gut, Derek. I should have looked him up, checked to make sure everything was clean."

His smile was tight. "They got him, anyway. Emily came by earlier this morning."

"How long have you been here?"

"It doesn't matter," he contradicted. "I'm just really glad to see you awake Doll Face."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "How long have _I_ been here?"

"Three days," he answered softly. "I was on the plane when I got the call."

"And you polished up your armour to come and rescue me again."

He breathed out a miniscule sigh of relief at the tone of humour and teasing in her voice. "Pen…"

She squeezed his hand, a small smile tilting the corners of her mouth. "Don't, Derek. We're both sorry, we both made mistakes. We'll both fix them."

Her strong conviction gave him hope as he took in her face. After a moment, Morgan stood, carefully dislodging his hand from hers. "I'm going to go let the doctors know you're awake." He pressed a long kiss to her forehead before heading out.

20 minutes later, she was hopped up on painkillers and the doctors had pronounced her most likely capable of making a full recovery now that she was awake and talking. She had another week in the hospital to ensure that the gunshot healed appropriately, but her prognosis was good.

Garcia's eyes were drooping, the drugs effectively putting her to sleep. Her hand was back in Derek's and he simply watched her.

"Go to sleep Princess," he urged, a hand reaching out to brush against her forehead and sift through her hair.

"It's going to be a dream."

He chuckled. "No way. I'm going to be here."

She couldn't fight the drugs anymore, but just as she was inches from falling off the precipice into dreamland, she felt him press another sweet kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, Pen."

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, feeling safer than ever.

* * *

_**Now, as this stands, its technically meant to be a oneshot, but there's a lot I could do with this so if you'd like to see more, like Morgan taking her home, like nightmares, like more development, let me know and I'll see what I can do.**_


	2. Changing Everything

He was going to be so late and Penelope was going to absolutely throttle him. Morgan had promised to pick her up from the hospital on the day she was released, and had sworn he'd be there on time. Now, because of some stupid unsub that had decided to go on a killing rampage in the greater Washington area, he was most likely going to be late.

He swore as he pulled onto the road, cursing anyone and everyone in his path. That damn unsub was going to get a severe interrogation when he got Penelope home and settled in bed.

They'd been talking every day, he'd been to visit whenever he could. They were building a rapport between them, building back up to what their relationship had been. It surprised him how fast she'd forgiven him.

What still annoyed him, however, was the way he knew she wasn't sure if he'd forgiven her.

It was a rebuilding relationship, but a twisted one, and though he had told her he loved her, he hadn't repeated the words since. He wanted to make sure everything was good with both of them before speaking the words again, wanted to make sure she understood that he wasn't saying the words because of his guilt. He wanted to make sure that the both understood exactly what was going on before he allowed himself to dive head first into what he'd wanted since his first conversation with her.

It took a while, but eventually Morgan made it to the hospital. He avoided the elevator, for personal and practical reasons, and took the stairs two and three at a time to get to her room. She sat on the bed, her bag at her feet, her legs dangling over the side. It was a comfort to see her wearing her usual colours even if they were in a stretchy skirt and flowing shirt.

"Hey there, Baby Girl," he greeted, a wide smile spreading over his face. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Garcia looked at him, carefully. "What's going on, Gorgeous?"

"Washington had a serial killer."

Garcia nodded. It was a downside to the job, having to be on call anytime, anywhere. Plus, he'd made it to the hospital to get her so that had to stand for something. Moreover, they'd hit the point in conversation where he had to say less and less, where she understood more and more from his words and actions. The short sentence said a lot, the mild apology in his eyes almost made her sigh.

They'd been dancing around each other even now, almost even more so than before. The baggage between them seemed to materialize out of one bullet, one moment that both of them wished they could take back but had never talked about. She knew him enough to know he kept apologizing through little things. She knew he knew her well enough to see the same thing in each smile and touch.

Something had to change.

Morgan took both of her hands, slowly pulling her to her feet and making sure she was stable before gripping one of her hands and her overnight bag. She stopped him, taking his other hand, bag and all. Her eyes were sincere and straight forward.

"We need to talk, Sweetness," she said, eyes imploring him to understand where she was coming from.

His eyes searched hers for the reassurance he needed to be able to nod and continue through the halls, down the elevator – there was no way he'd let her take the stairs while she was recovering – and out into the parking lot. He made sure she was in safely and securely before jogging around to the driver's side, hopping in and starting the engine.

He waited until they were on the road to speak. "Alright, Mama, let's have this talk."

Though the words had a light tone to them, Garcia wasn't naïve enough to miss the protectiveness of the lilt. Her stomach churned with the words she had to say. They were either going to get her everything she wanted, or absolutely nothing at all. "Something needs to change, Derek."

His hands curled marginally tighter on the steering wheel. "We need to stop apologizing to each other."

Her grin was impish as she mentally smacked herself for thinking anything could be hidden from a profiler, and an extremely perceptive profiler at that. "Can we?"

He waited until they hit a red light to turn slightly in his seat to face her. He took in her face, still slightly pale but almost back to the rosy hue he was used to, her eyes, worried and apprehensive, but still as brown and beautiful as they'd ever been. His heart constricted at the tense muscles in her face, the wrinkles in her forehead that spoke volumes of her own internal turmoil. "Yeah."

She smiled and could feel some of the tension drain out of her shoulders. "Good."

"There's a 'but' Baby Girl," he warned as the light changed and he pulled through the intersection.

She chuckled humourlessly. "There's always a 'but'."

"We have to talk about what happened, the shooting, your reaction, my stupidity…"

"Derek," she started.

Morgan shook his head. "There's a lot of ground to cover," he said, switching gears slightly. "It's going to be a long conversation."

Garcia nodded. "I know," she promised. "If I start to doze we'll just make a note of where we are and pick it back up again later."

"They've still got you on painkillers?" He thanked her and The Powers That Be for the minute reprieve while he tried to figure out exactly what to say to her.

"Yup," she agreed happily. "Mild ones." She pulled the bottle out of her purse and shook it at him. "Once these are gone, I get regular strength babies until I can wean myself off of those."

Morgan nodded. "And work?"

"Two weeks at home. Then desk work, but my life is desk work." The huge grin on her face spoke volumes as to how much she adored her job.

"We're missing you, that's for sure," he said grinning back. "It's not the same to call an official guy that won't get into the questionable stuff like you."

Garcia blushed slightly.

"And I gotta tell you, Princess, the job is not as much fun without you on the other end of the phone line." His smile was the charming one she missed when he wasn't around, even if she could usually hear it through the phone when he called.

They pulled up to her house and he hopped out, racing around the car to make sure she could get out of the car without pulling anything too badly. Her bag was in his hand as they made their way slowly up the walk.

Suddenly, she froze.

_**Hey Garcia?**_

_**Yeah?**_

_**I've**__**been thinking about doing this all night.**_

"Garcia?"

_**The gun went off and all she could feel was a searing, blinding pain in her abdomen. She knew she had to do something, had to call someone, had to get herself somewhere, but her mind was busy focusing on other things.**_

_**It had been too good to be true.**_

_**She should have trusted her gut.**_

_**She shouldn't have yelled at Derek.**_

"Baby Girl? Talk to me."

_**Her knees gave out as she sank to the stairs part of her brain coaching her, encouraging her to get out her cell phone and call an ambulance, tell them she'd been shot. But she couldn't seem to lift her fingers or to get her mind off of everything else.**_

_**Maybe she deserved this for not being more careful. She worked in the FBI, had access to every data file ever created, could hack into a sealed and expunged juvenile record. Why on earth had she not done the same for her date tonight? Why hadn't she followed her gut?**_

_**Derek had been right and she'd yelled at him, potentially destroying everything, destroying every chance.**_

_**And**__**she wasn't even going to get a chance to apologize.**_

"Penelope!"

Her mind slammed back to the present, to the arms that were wrapped around her and the cool stone of the walkway under her legs. She'd collapsed with the force of the memory. It took her a few seconds to register that she was crying. A few more seconds told her Morgan was on the ground with her.

"It's okay," he soothed, rubbing her back, kissing her temple, murmuring whatever came to his mind.

She turned automatically into his chest, sobbing. He'd been the one she'd call when the nightmares woke her up at odd hours. He'd been the one to coach her through them, to remind her that she was alive and in one piece and they usually ended up talking about the most irrelevant things. He told her about his football playing days, about his younger sister's prom where he scared her date bad enough that he'd returned her to the house ten minutes after prom ended. She listened raptly, the memories of the pain, the fear of dying and everything else fading under his smooth voice. He hung up when she fell asleep again.

Eventually, she'd calmed down enough to breathe normally and the tears had stopped for the time being. Gingerly, he helped her to her feet, wincing along with her when her hand went to her side. She heard him grumble something under his breath about unsubs and panic attacks as he walked her slowly up the stairs.

She hated being weak. She wasn't weak. She saw some of the worst possible things a human could do to another human and she couldn't even walk up her own front path to her house without freaking out.

"Pen, look at me, Hot Stuff."

His eyes held an understanding that didn't surprise her, but it made her feel guilty nonetheless. She looked away immediately but his hand came up under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"These things happen," he told her. "We both know that. You're not any different than you were a month ago."

"Derek…"

He shook his head vehemently. "We'll get you inside and settled. Then, Princess, you and I are due for a long conversation."

* * *

AUTHOR'S ENDNOTES:

So this was really long and up the day after Losing Everything... This unfortunately probably won't be consistent, I just started writing this while I was watching CSI last night and finished it this morning. There's a little bit more planning before I can write the conversation so you're going to have to please bear with me while I study for my exam on Monday and write the next one. Hopefully it'll be up my Monday. If not, Tuesday.

I hope this meets the caliber of the last one! And thanks so much to everyone that reviewed.


	3. Discussing Everything

If there was one thing both Garcia and Morgan were good at, it was avoiding sharing off their deep dark secrets. Or, in this case, just the last three months. Before her shooting, they cooked together often, so when he made a beeline for her kitchen, taking her with him, she didn't bother to resist.

Her kitchen was stocked, much to her surprise, and he only shrugged when she raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He had her emergency key. He was the only person she could think of who would stock her entire kitchen just before she got home. Her cupboards were open to his every whim, and he took advantage, moving from her counter to the fridge to the cupboards and back again.

Even if she was absolutely terrified about what their conversation would entail, blood pumped that bit faster as she watched him go about making spaghetti sauce. She loved watching him cook and knew it was a secret that he seldom shared.

"Spaghetti, Derek?"

"Problem with that, Baby Girl? I even have penne 'cause I know you don't like spaghetti noodles."

Garcia grinned and blushed at how well he knew her eating habits. "No problem," she promised. "I'm just wondering what makes me special enough to deserve Mama Morgan's sauce this time."

He grinned at her. His mother's spaghetti sauce was a recipe he tended to make for her during bad cases, cases where she had to watch terrible videos or focus in on the brutality that the team saw in the field. Cooking things that were his family's recipe comforted him, reminded him of the times he used to cook with his mother.

"I need a reason?" he finally replied.

There was a million responses to that, a million ways she could catapult them into the conversation they needed to have. Yet part of her resisted from deep down in her body. Right now, things were light, she could feel her body recovering from the panic attack, had actually stopped her mind from beating herself up about it. She wasn't sure she was fully prepared for more self-derision or self-doubt quite yet.

"Come on, Sugar," she goaded. The grin he shot her over his shoulder was the one she loved so much.

"Because you're you," he answered.

"Because I'm freshly home from the hospital with a gunshot wound? Because I just had a panic attack on the front steps? Because you feel bad and know Mama Morgan's spaghetti makes both of us feel better?"

He looked at her, a smile on his face but surprise in his eyes. "Are you sure you should take a step out of your lair and become a profiler?"

"You didn't answer Gorgeous, which choice is it?"

He waved her over to the stove, handing her the wooden spoon he was using to stir the beginnings of the sauce. She took over willingly, glad he wasn't babying her and keeping her from doing anything. Meanwhile Morgan pulled out another pot and filled it with water for the noodles.

"Can't a treat such a strong and beautiful woman to a home made meal after she's eaten hospital food for a month and a half?" Morgan teased.

Her hand came to rest on his forearm as he put the pot on the stove. "Be honest with me, Derek."

The combination of the blatant plea in her eyes and the soft tone of her voice spoke volumes as to her own turmoil. Both of them kept their secrets – though fewer and fewer from each other – and her entire stance was begging him to open up first, even if it was just a little bit. He kissed her temple. "Because it makes both of us feel better," he whispered against her hair.

They cooked in silence for a while, though took opportunities to lean across the other or affectionately bump hips. The quiet, however, was deceptive. Derek was finely tuned to Garcia, very aware of how she did not take more than two or three steps in any direction. He noticed her wince when she twisted too fast or moved in a way that aggravated the still bruised and torn tissue.

"Painkiller, Pen?" he asked softly as he drained the penne, throwing some butter in it to ensure that it did not stick together.

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"Pen," he warned. "You don't have to be strong here."

"The painkillers make me fall asleep," she reminded him. "I have a feeling I am going to need every omniscient brain cell I've got tonight."

"I don't want you to be hurting," Morgan replied. "We can wait."

Garcia shook her head. "I'm sick of you feeling guilty for my mistake."

"I'm and FBI Special Agent…"

"And I'm a technical analyst, Sugar," she pointed out. "If anyone should be feeling guilty, it's me."

"For what?" he asked, confusion and frustration blatant.

"I have the all-knowing power of hacking skills and FBI clearance. I should have run a background check, I should have trusted my gut."

Gently, he extracted the wooden spoon from her fingers, grinning at the aggressive way she had begun stirring as she got frustrated. "I'm sorry for making you feel worthless," he said softly in her ear.

By the time her body had gone through it's response to his close proximity and breath on her ear, he'd already moved away to put the sauce on the pasta. She moved reluctantly when he waved her ahead of him to the table. Dinner was eaten in between light tidbits, a game of who could come up with the most random trivia. It wasn't until they settled on the couch, Garcia curled up against Morgan's side, that they picked the conversation up again.

"I might have overreacted a bit," Garcia said, her eyes focused on the window and something outside. "To your analysis of Colby, I mean."

"Baby Girl, I don't have the write to judge the guys you meet."

"Yeah, you do," she contradicted immediately. "You're my teammate, my colleague and my best friend. You have the right to judge the guys I'm thinking of seeing."

"But not before meeting them. I drove you to call him back, to say yes to going out with him. I shouldn't have said anything," Morgan replied. "You were so mad at me."

Her hand took his and placed it on her abdomen, right above the wound, turning her back and leaning into him more in the process. She did it every once in a while because the heat helped the dull throb of her healing skin. It would do as an effective painkiller until this conversation was over. "Some of the things I said were wrong, Derek."

"Nah, you hit the nail on the head. I miss things that are right under my nose sometimes."

Her heart rate accelerated at that admission. "I just… I'm not _that_ girl, not like you're _that_ guy."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be That Girl to get That Guy," he told her. "And I felt so guilty. I swore to protect when I joined the FBI."

For the time being, Garcia ignored the subject change. "You were in Florida, what could you do?"

They both fell silent for a few moments though Garcia could tell Morgan was puzzling through something.

"My heart stopped when I got the call," Morgan started softly, the hand not on her stomach starting to brush through her curls. "Then the team started making calls to Quantico, to the hospital, to police stations and media channels and I just sat there. All I could think was that I couldn't lose you, not after being in a fight with you, not with you mad at me.

"When I saw you in that hospital bed… I wasn't sure what to think. All I knew was that you had to wake up. Our team just isn't our team without my Baby Girl. You are such a light to anyone who gets the honour of working with you, Pen."

He fell silent and Garcia tried not to deflate. They were dancing again and she was sick of it. She waited a few more minutes before sighing softly and moving his hand. However, it came back, pressing gently against her other hip and holding her body down.

"You're _my_ light."

That was admission enough.

For now.

* * *

_**So how do you like the circle conversations? I find every single serious conversation I've had in my life starts one way and then evolves into another, so this kinda seems to flow along with that. And there's no direct admission, which I like because I have other ideas for how he'll admit to her that he's in love with her and that he cares deeply for her.**_

_**This is what happens when I procrastinate and avoid studying at almost every possible cost. That and the Wiki for CSI NY gets updated 'cause it's more behind than the one for Criminal Minds.**_

_**Speaking of the CM Wiki, I'm looking for authors who are willing to contribute their stories to the fanfiction page. If you're a review whore, like most of us author's are, there's a way to make it link back to the page so that people can review if they are so inclined, but there's also a threads section at the bottom of any story page that people can leave comments too. **_

_**Unfortunately (or fortunately, it really depends on your definition) you need a login to create the link. If you don't have an account and don't want an account but are willing to share your stories, drop me a PM with the story title and I'll link them through. I do ask however that you don't leave it in a review. PM me because it'll actually be more efficient.**_

_**Any contributions are welcome!**_

_**PS: Don't get used to these quick updates. Procrastination is key, yes, but I still have work to do. Once I get into final exam time (2 weeks) there's more of a chance of regular updates because writing will be a break. The other reason for such quick updates is that I haven't written anything substantial in almost 2 months. When I came back to school I was kind of writing-ed out after writing for my 4 month summer break so now I'm getting back into the swing of it and you guys are getting the benefits I guess. **_


	4. Honouring Everything

There was a lot of different things Garcia had pictured in her first day back, but a completely quiet office was not one of them. It felt good to be back in the swing of things, back to her office and her niche, but she expected piles upon piles of paperwork in her office, files that needed to be addressed, and maybe a hot co-worker around to remind her that normalcy wasn't that far away.

However, that wasn't what she got when she opened her office door. She was a little apprehensive to step in, to say the least. The entire place was covered in flowers. She stood outside the door for a few moments, just taking it all in before she even considered venturing in. The ringing of her phone forced her to navigate her way to her desk and the phone buried between a bouquet of carnations and a solitary sunflower.

"Garcia."

"What, no cute quip hello?"

A smile blossomed over her face involuntarily as his voice floated over the line. "You try digging up the phone in the middle of a garden. Then tell me you have enough brain capacity to come up with a witty greeting."

"I find it hard to believe that a genius like yourself really has problems exercising her wit," came Morgan's smooth reply. "And a goddess should be used to the tribute of mere mortals."

She chuckled as she booted up the computers. "I could start my own florist through all of this. At least most of the bigger vases are on the floor, away from the fragile and sensitive equipment."

"Even you are not clumsy enough to spill flowers, Baby Girl," he placated. "And I saw the garden when I came by to pay my own tribute."

Garcia's mind locked onto that tidbit. "Your tribute? But you are not a mere mortal, are you?" She spun in her chair, the best way to get full view of the room. She figured Morgan's welcome back gift would jump out at her. Nothing did. "Gorgeous, you know my live of surprises has decreased severely over the last three months," she lectured.

"I promise it's not a jump-out-and-scare-you kind of tribute, Doll Face. Now I have to run so take a look at the case and I'll call you when we need your all-knowing self."

That took her by surprise. They'd talked not five hours before and she could have sworn she woke him up. "Case?"

Morgan chuckled. "We're in California."

She groaned. She hadn't even realized they were on a case. Her nightmare had spurred her to hit speed dial, period, end of discussion. "You didn't tell me."

"It's just a case, Pen," he said, confusion evident in his voice. "Is this about your phone call earlier?"

"I woke you up didn't I?"

"You've done it before. And you've done it before when we've been off chasing down bad guys," he pointed out in confusion.

"I know, I know, I just…"

"Hey, you're still recovering. The nightmares get better. And I'm glad you call me, I really am. Lack of sleep is a small price to pay for your beauty sleep and sanity, Princess," he reassured her, his voice strong. "Now, you look over that case and prepare yourself to work some magic."

* * *

It was a couple hours later that her phone rang shrilly, long after she'd booted up her computers and taken a very thorough look over the file, pictures excluded of course. There were some things about her fellow human beings she really didn't need to know. 

"You've reached Penelope Garcia, technical goddess. Make a wish."

"You ready to work your magic?" Morgan's voice came for the second time that day.

"I was born ready, what do you need?"

"I need you to dig into the records of BlytheWorks Financial, see if you can find any disgruntled employees from the janitors to the officers."

She had the records pulled up before he'd even finished the sentence her pulse picking up at the thrill of being back in the game. "Company's got a lot of complaints here, Sugar, you looking for anything in particular?"

"Any that are specifically lodged against our vic, Joseph McMunagle."

A few keystrokes later and the list was already being sent over the wires. "Twelve complaints in the last six months, they're on their way over. And Morgan?"

"Mmhmm?"

"If you left me my proper tribute it's been stolen or buried."

He chuckled at her matter-of-fact tone. "Keep looking, Baby Girl. I'm sure you'll find it."

Then he was gone.

Garcia leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a moment to bask in being able to help out again. She'd missed this, missed being called whenever the team needed her, missed being able to look things up in the time it took them to finish a sentence. She played an important role in the team and she knew it just as well as they did.

Morgan hadn't held back from her either in the sense that when they talked, he inevitably started ranting about whatever incompetent tech that they'd been assigned for their specific case. They were never good enough, never fast enough, never quick enough to match her wit, intellect and supreme genius. It was nice to know she'd been terribly missed.

Now, however, her mind was on a mission. To find whatever Morgan had left for her as her welcome back gift. And it was buried somewhere in the depths of this mess…

* * *

**48 Hours Later**

It had been forever since she'd upgraded her computers, and the layer of dust she'd had to clean off the keyboards when JJ called for information spoke to the number of people who had dared to step in her lair and touch her weapons of justice. It had given her time to clean some of the vases and arrangements out of her office. Still, there was nothing she could find that screamed 'Derek Morgan' at her, and she'd pretty much emptied the place.

A knock on her door startled her, but a grin blossomed over her face at the chocolate God leaning against the doorway as if he belonged there. "Hey there, Hot Stuff."

"Hey yourself," he responded, not moving from his perch in the doorway. "The team wants to take you out. Dinner, after our first case back together again."

Her cheeks went red. She loved her team, from the bottom of her heart. The fact that they wanted to take her out to celebrate her return just made her feel that little bit more special.

"But they'll all understand if you'd rather just go home and hit the hay. Hotch was a little surprised that you stayed with us the whole time."

She grinned. "I slept, when you guys slept. Plus, it was nice to be back working."

"You didn't push yourself though, right? It is your first case back and with the way we were going in California…"

Without thinking twice she approached and patted his cheek with her hand. "I'm fine, sweetness, as close to 100 percent as I can be following cases like these."

"And your side?"

"Honey, I've been sitting most of the day, I promise it's fine. Minimal painkillers, and I may have tugged on it once when I was moving all of this stuff, but that's it. You worry too much." He sighed, and she knew she was about to get some sort of insight.

"I worry about _you_, Pen," he responded, running a hand over his head. "But it certainly felt good to have you back."

She grinned. "You were saying something about dinner?"

"If you're up for it the team wants to take you out," he repeated, his hand absently coming to rest on her hip, even as his other shoulder balanced his weight against the doorframe.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Garcia asked, grabbing her last vase. Then she stopped dead and slowly replaced said vase at her feet. There, inconspicuously sitting on her desk, was a small plant, insignificant in comparison the overtures that had graced her room not half an hour before. The plastic pot it was in was white, simple, unadorned as the flowers were.

Garcia didn't keep plants in her sanctum for the logical reason of computer safety. Thus, the plant was new, different, out of place in the otherwise cluttered room. Beside them was another pot, this one with pens sticking out of it in the gardening foam used for fake arrangements. They ranged from bright light up pens to pens that were simply fun colours.

Immediately she spun to a grinning Derek Morgan, dropping her purse and just missing knocking over the other vase by centimetres as she launched herself at him. It had taken her three days, but she'd found his 'Welcome Back' gift.

"Whoa," he exclaimed as he caught her, a little bit surprised at his enthusiasm. "Is this how you've been thanking all of your admirers?"

Garcia shook her head against his shoulder. "I'm not a huge bouquet kind of girl, just a small simple one works best and all of this was a little overwhelming when I stepped in this morning and it's… it's perfect."

Morgan was grinning at how his smart, sassy tech goddess could go from business and teasing to gushing woman in thirty seconds flat. "It's an African Violet so it's care is pretty minimal," he revealed. "And I figured some new pens were in order for such a spectacularly, adorably out there kind of girl."

"New flowers, new pens… kind of sounds like we're honouring a new person," she said contemplatively.

Morgan snorted. "Okay, Baby Girl, no more spending time with the profilers. Tonight aside 'cause I think Hotch is buying."

Garcia's eyes widened in surprise and glee. "I'm in! Let's go, before our illustrious leader changes his mind."

Morgan watched and grinned as she picked up the violet, placing it just behind and to the left of her centre screen, a place she could see it whenever she worked. The pens found a place of honour on the right side, sticking up like the odd bouquet they were. He was so glad to have her back, so glad to know that she was right down the hall from him again, not in bed, or holed up in the hospital.

He took comfort in the fact that things were returning to as close to normal as they could be after the fear of almost losing one of their own. Yet, Derek knew that there were things that were changing, things that were shifting. But since those things revolved around his relationship with Garcia – he wasn't going to make any sort of concrete move until he knew she was back for good – he wasn't going to complain.

Instead, he would bide his time, not keeping too close, but definitely not pushing her as far away as he had before. He'd made that mistake once and it had almost cost Penelope Garcia her life.

He wasn't stupid enough to make the same mistake again.


	5. Starting Everything

Full time, full throttle back to work had taken much less time than Garcia had expected. Her relationship with Morgan on the other hand, was still teetering on the edge of something secure and concrete. In fact, she was feeling a little lonely. She'd noticed how he was spending less and less time with her, less and less time at her place, unlike what had been the norm during her recovery. For a man who wanted to be in a relationship with her, he seemed to be working towards the opposite.

And it was starting to get frustrating.

So she started fighting back through the little things. She called Reid or Emily with her results, interchanged greetings but kept any sexual innuendoes to a minimum and ensured that she also kept her smartass remarks to a minimum when talking with _him_.

"Hey Baby Girl."

Garcia spun in surprise. "You aren't due back for an hour," she blurted.

Morgan grinned and chuckled as he closed the door behind him. "We took off early. I'm surprised you, with your ever-knowing weapons, did not know."

She stuck out her tongue, helpless to respond to the teasing tone of his voice. "Even all-knowing supreme genius has it's bad days." Her heart jumped at the concern that immediately washed over his face. Maybe she had reason to hope after all.

"Everything okay?" he asked, almost unnecessarily. "The question was written all over his face. It was a testament to the shift that had happened between them.

"I've had better days," she answered vaguely.

He ran a hand over his head. "I told Hotch he shouldn't have had you go though those tapes frame by frame."

She'd expected him to ask about her injury, for that was what he had attributed her bad days to in the past. Really, he was right, but she pasted on a smile anyway. "Nothing a good bath and glass of wine won't fix, Sugar."

He raised an eyebrow. He'd been privy to hearing some of the original recordings of the screams. Their unsub had been twisted enough to describe, in detail, what he was doing to his victims while he was doing it. Garcia had been asked to isolate background noise. "No offence, Princess, but I doubt that."

She was tired, she was anxious, she was frustrated with the ping-pong game he seemed to be playing. So, her eyebrow raised as she regarded him from her chair. "You doubt that?"

Morgan blinked, not prepared for such a hostile response. "Even Hotch is going to be up late with the images, the sounds," he replied slowly.

"And you don't think I can handle them."

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "I know you can't handle them. No one can."

"I'll be just fine," she snapped, and spun back to her computers.

Morgan wasn't going to just let her off, not after she had spent the last 6 months calling him when the nightmares haunted her eyelids. "What's going on? I thought we were past the point of being strong before each other, that there was no reason to hide."

"That's what _we_ said," she affirmed, typing away, her back still to him.

Like any good profiler, Morgan caught the emphasis. "Mama, work with me here. What am I hiding?"

Garcia had to shrug off the hands that rested on her shoulders, all masculine heat and gentle touch. There was no way she was going to be able to stay mad at him if he kept touching her. "If you don't know, why should I tell you?" Her tone was on the haughty side, but she justified it with her anger.

He forcefully spun her chair to face him, balancing himself on the padded arms. "Because if we're going to make anything work between us, I need you to talk to me."

"Anything work implies there's something to make work." She closed her eyes immediately after the words came out, berating herself for telling him. They flew open again when she heard his low chuckle.

He leaned closer, very much inside her personal bubble. "You think I changed my mind," he accused, his grin still in place.

"You're mocking me," she challenged.

"I'm trying to figure out where you got the idea that I changed my mind," he countered, eyes darting all over her face in concern. "I hope not from me."

Garcia took a deep breath. "It's been six months, Derek," she began softly.

"It has," he agreed, spinning both of them so he could lean against her desk. "And that's a problem?"

"Why am I upset?"

Morgan sighed. "Pen, listen to me. Your recovery was topmost in my mind or I would have swept you out on a proper date the moment you were cleared for desk duty."

"I'm not sure that makes sense," she said honestly.

"I wanted to make sure two things didn't happen. One, I wanted to keep the pressure of a relationship off of your shoulders until you were recovered. And two, most importantly, I didn't want either of us to think it was out of guilt," he explained. "But don't doubt that I want this."

Garcia looked a little flustered and a little embarrassed. He'd brought up a very good point. She definitely wouldn't want Morgan in a relationship with her because he felt guilty for her being shot. "Okay, the second part… I'll give you, but the first part? You mean to tell me that I've been waiting six months for you to stop being paranoid that I'm going to break? I think I'm insulted."

Morgan chuckled as he braced himself on the arms of her chair once again. "If you were really that impatient you could have done something yourself, Sweetness."

Her brain was starting to lose its focus, her senses overwhelmed with his proximity and scent. "You're playing dirty," she accused, her voice lowering to a murmur as her gaze darted between his smirking mouth and his eyes.

"Am I?" His face was all innocence but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away.

She managed to retain enough brain power to fight dirty with dirty. Leaning closer, she whispered against his lips, "Oh yeah and it's…" she took in a deep breath, sighing it out overdramatically. "Tantalizing." She pulled back, leaving just a sliver of space between them.

A sliver of space Morgan closed not more than half a second later when he kissed her.

* * *

_**Part of me feels like that's an absolutely brutal place to leave you, but it worked as an ending and actually isn't meant to be a cliff-hanger. **_

_**This has most definitely morphed out of control! I hadn't expected this to go on so long, but you guys seem to like it and I like writing it!**_

_**Thanks for the reviews. They give me warm fuzzies.**_

_**Now what would you guys like to see next?**_


	6. Solving Everything

**Solving Everything**

They didn't play things up at work. In fact, they generally avoided touching that would be considered inappropriate. Of course, ironically it was what tipped the team off more, but they weren't about to spill what Morgan and Garcia considered a carefully guarded secret.

They'd always been close, and that much everyone was aware of. From day one, something between the two of them had clicked and Hotch, the only one around since the two met, had only watched the bond strengthen over time. Which was what made their drastic change in behaviour so obvious to those that were well acquainted with the multiple ways in which Garcia flirted.

But there was always a first time for everything, always that one time where things just didn't go your way and the status quo shifted monumentally to accommodate such a drastic change. This case was that change, their hiding the status quo, and it was all shattered with one, small, piece of lead and one relentless piece of steel.

Really, it shouldn't have surprised Morgan to see Garcia out of her lair, nor should it have surprised him to see her looking so worried, anxious and a little more than ticked. He'd been the one to throw himself on the unsub, a bullet just grazing his shoulder from one of the local PD guns and the unsub's knife doing more damage to his jeans than his thigh and he should have known she would find out about it eventually.

The look he shot towards Reid and JJ made the latter wince and he knew immediately who had been the bug in Garcia's ear on this one. It almost disturbed him more to see her standing, her fingers tapping against her arm from where they were crossed under her chest. He manoeuvred the chair so he could set his bag in it, meeting her gaze as relentlessly as she held his.

Tension was more than palpable and both Morgan and Garcia knew this was not a battle they wanted to have in the bullpen of the BAU, even if it was just the team, even if it was almost 1am and most of the agents had gone home. This was for them and them alone, and he knew once she was sure he was fine and once she'd made him feel supremely guilty for risking his life and throwing himself in front of guns and knives, everything would probably fall back to normal.

For now, however, they needed privacy.

Without a word she pushed by him, headed out of the bullpen. Morgan sighed, running a hand over his head as he tried to battle the exhaustion for just a few more minutes. He'd have to take another painkiller too, his shoulder was starting to burn again. But he wasn't going home, any home, without solving things with his girl.

The trek to her office seemed so much further than usual as he forced his body to move with it's usual flawless grace instead of slow and sluggish like he was feeling. She'd left her door open, and he could see her hunched over, head in her hands as her elbows rested on the arms of the chair. His hands automatically rested on her shoulders, feeling how tight they were.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't think."

Garcia knew Morgan. They were friends, good friends and she worked with profilers enough to have a rudimentary knowledge of reading people. She knew Morgan was the hero type, the one most likely to throw themselves in front of a person to take a bullet, the one most likely to go into a potentially dangerous situation without thinking twice, the one who needed that kind of action in his job. It didn't make her feel much better.

She remembered Annandale, she remembered the anti-technology bomber, she remembered almost every time he'd put himself in potential death situations and continued to thank every deity she could think of, religious or not, for each and every time he came out alive. It, of course, didn't mean she couldn't be royally pissed.

This time it was a double whammy. "You were almost shot _and _stabbed, what the hell were you thinking?"

The words were harsh enough to startle Morgan for a moment, forcing him to re-evaluate everything that was going on with the blond in front of him. She hadn't shrugged his hands off, a first clue that she wasn't actually going to kill him slowly and painfully. The anger was obvious, fear and anxiety fuelling it into the inferno that had forced her to snap at him.

"I wasn't thinking about it, Pen," he tried to explain. "I had a chance, an opening, and I took it. I promise there is no permanent damage."

"But there could have been." She cursed the tears that were audible in her voice. Her shooting had given her a whole new perspective on her life, a whole new way of thinking things through, of understanding what exactly life meant and had to mean. Her mantra 'everything happens for a reason' had grown a whole new connotation with that one little piece of lead.

That didn't mean she threw herself into the thick of just any battle. The fact that her job didn't put her in those types of situations like his did was secondary.

"Hey, don't think like that. What if's don't matter. Everything happens for a reason, remember?" he said, his fingers starting to move slowly, back and forth over her shoulders.

"So you almost got shot and stabbed so you'd learn not to do it again?" she asked, a little bit of her cheek back.

He showed his appreciation for the levity with a chuckle. "I throw myself in the thick of danger all the time."

Finally she spun to face him, her eyes boring into his. "And every time you take five years off of my life."

Morgan sighed, it wasn't as if he didn't think of her reactions when he did things, it just happened to become second nature to save someone else's life – or take down an unsub, but they were arguably the same thing. "I'm here, Baby Girl, alive and kicking and in serious need of my girl, can that be enough?"

In reality, she wanted to ask for more. She wanted to ask him to never throw himself in front of an unsub again. She wanted to ask him to stay out of danger, maybe take a desk job, but she wasn't naïve enough to think he would listen, or more importantly, that it was her place to demand such things. The FBI and his work was a big part of his life, a big part of his identity and she would never ask him to give that up. She loved him too much for that. For now, it would have to be enough.

So she did the only other thing she'd wanted to do since he strolled through the glass doors of the BAU bullpen: she launched herself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. He caught her effortlessly, not even stumbling back and allowed her a few moments before cupping her face and virtually devouring her.

The clearing of a throat cut the hungry kiss short.

Garcia buried her head in Morgan's chest, grumbling and groaning incoherently. There was something in there about a very painful death, but he wasn't about to ask her with their team standing in the doorway. Both of them looked amused.

"We wanted to make sure Morgan was okay," Hotch began, an amused smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"And that Garcia didn't need some wine and movies," JJ added.

"But it looks like you've got everything under control," Emily finished, her smug grin no where close to hidden.

Reid looked between all his teammates and Emily's smug smile. "I have no idea why you're so smug Emily. It's the second and it's after a traumatic event. I win the pool."

The team laughed and handed over the money as Morgan and Garcia's jaws dropped.

"What?" JJ asked with an innocent look. "It was so obvious."

"You guys knew?" Garcia squeaked.

"Knew is a relative term," Emily replied. "We had pretty strong suspicions. Let's head out… I think drinks will be on Dr Reid tonight."

Morgan sighed heavily as they left, Garcia still wrapped tightly in his arms. He almost jumped when her thumbs made it under his t-shirt, tracing the skin just above his waistband.

"I don't think I want to join the team tonight. I'm really not feeling like going out on the town." Her eyes were sparkling, her body pushing against his.

Morgan wasn't blind, nor was he stupid. "We'll call in a rain check," he agreed, his head bending to kiss her.

"You've been away…" Garcia began, tilting her head back to accommodate Morgan's mouth.

"And I've missed you…" Morgan added.

"And you've got a lot of apologizing to do…"

"Your place or mine?" he growled out against her throat.

"Mmm, don't care."

"Yours it is." Then he leaned down to her ear. "First one to the car gets to be on top."


End file.
